


Carpe Diem

by nursehelena



Series: Hearts & Guts 2015 [3]
Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Alternate Universe - Foreign Exchange Student, Aromantic Character(s), M/M, Pre-Dethklok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2015-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-19 18:16:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3619533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nursehelena/pseuds/nursehelena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skwisgaar's been an exchange student in the Explosion household through Nathan's senior year of high school. With grad slowly approaching, time is running out for them to break into Florida's death metal scene.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Carpe Diem

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zsomeone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zsomeone/gifts).



“. . .Take one test and pass the rest back. You have until the top of the hour to turn it in.”  
  
Nathan heaved a sigh, waiting for the piece of paper he'd dreaded the entire weekend. No way, was he prepared. He couldn't wrap his mind around the math, and if not for his mother's constant nagging—not to mention disallowance toward finally dropping out—he wouldn't be sitting here right now.   
  
Seated ahead of him, Skwisgaar tapped his heel against the floor. Every few seconds, he jerked his head forward in attempt to free some hair from where it secured itself around a loose screw. Eventually, he just pulled his ponytail over his shoulder. His gaze stuck to the test when it finally reached him, and he casually held Nathan's aloft behind his head. When it remained in his grasp for too long, he glanced over his shoulder. “Ams you taking it or not?”  
  
“No,” Nathan decided. He'd reached the end of his rope; he couldn't receive one more F in his life. Every turn he took in this institution reminded him that he was a failure. Ever since he'd torn his ACL back in October, he didn't have a single chance left in the world. He could never get to college without sports, and he couldn't even go into the army like this. What the hell else did he have left to do with his life? He didn't know, but whatever came next situated on the immediate horizon. The entire class watched him leave, while a couple of assholes he once considered his friends snickered about it. Nathan half-expected Skwisgaar to follow, to perhaps try and turn him back around since Rose had instilled a sense of responsibility toward ensuring her son made it to class. He didn't, though; Nathan didn't see him until after school let out, when he pulled his car up beside him.   
  
“How'd the test go?” Nathan asked.   
  
“Was pretties tricky.” Skwisgaar situated his backpack between his legs, then wiped sweat from his forehead. Spring in Florida kicked his ass, wetting his skin and reddening prominent cheek bones. His arrival from Sundsvall mid-August was a great source of entertainment. Walking out of the airport halted Skwisgaar in his tracks and scrambled his mind toward thus far carefully spoken English. He hadn't even bothered to try for fluency, since then. All over again, Nathan wondered why Skwisgaar picked Florida of all places to travel as an exchange student. Sure, the Tampa area had a hell of a lot more to offer than his home nation for death metal, but was it really worth all the suffering? Skwisgaar had nearly fallen ill with heat stroke twice, already. “You readies to go home?”  
  
“Not exactly. Fuck, I'm in such deep shit.” Nathan grumbled. “My mom's literally gonna kill me.”  
  
“You coulds write a songs about it, maybe?”   
  
The car slid into gear as they headed down a familiar route. “What the hell would be the point of that, if I can't write it down through the process?”  
  
“I coulds get it out of you later, through a ouija board.”  
  
The suggestion allowed for some humour to come of the situation. Nathan felt better laughing about it, for it didn't seem so bad for a glimpse. However, curiosity as to what his life would become without his diploma returned a bout of anxiety to his chest. Were Skwisgaar not here, Nathan's next step would be obvious. He would leave home, find a place to crash in Tampa, and give his hand at making music his career. Skwisgaar actually presented a double-edged sword, because without him, Nathan wouldn't have gotten nearly as deep in the scene. He learned before Skwisgaar arrived that he was incredibly interested in laying some roots and getting his name out. The first time they made a trip into the Bay Area, Skwisgaar made Nathan feel like a tourist on his own turf. He knew the streets better, as well as various tricks for finding exactly what they wanted and needed. The only thing missing was some sort of rapport with the people, although that came soon enough.   
  
Relocating to Tampa meant leaving Skwisgaar in New Port Richey. Without Skwisgaar, Nathan was nothing but a voice and visionary, and without Nathan, Skwisgaar was—well. He was stuck alone with Nathan's mom, which Nathan wished on absolutely nobody. As independent as Skwisgaar and Nathan both were in regards to their respective parents, Rose still gave her all toward suffocation. Skwisgaar came to her like the second child she could never have, thanks to birth complications with Nathan, and Serveta the foreign friend she'd always desired to brag about to her book club.   
  
Thankfully, Rose was still out of the house when they arrived. Skwisgaar tread straight to his allotted space, Nathan following since his own room was adjacent. Therein, he ditched his shoes, changed his shirt to one of those banned from school, and then migrated to where Skwisgaar had already taken up with his guitar. Skwisgaar outgrew the habit of leaving his boots at the front door, but still took them off right inside his room; Nathan tripped over them as result, alerting Skwisgaar of his presence. He didn't look up, although one of the notes he played plucked more than he would naturally allow. His strings suffered one massive twang as Nathan crashed onto his bed.   
  
“Any idea when your mom ams coming home?”  
  
“She told me this morning she was volunteering down at the food drive, so no idea. She left us money to order a pizza, though.”  
  
“Dat ams cool.” Skwisgaar wiped his brow again; the ceiling fan combined with the window unit dried his hairline into small, tight curls. His skin continued to shine, complementing nicely his concentrated expression. He was a very good looking boy, which had earned Rose's surprise as to why he didn't get himself a girlfriend. And yet, she applauded him for staying away from girls, since they were only trouble at this age. What would she think, if she knew the real reason Skwisgaar provided no proof of romantic interest in the opposite sex?  
  
“Hey,” Nathan addressed him. “You wanna fuck, or something?”  
  
“Mmm. . .maybes try catchings me a little laters about it.”   
  
“Okay. Cool.”   
  
Nathan knew he wasn't as good for Skwisgaar, as Skwisgaar was for him. Coming to terms with being gay was a process; even though there was no way to change what nature decided, Nathan took baby-steps. He could at least admit that he was attracted to Skwisgaar, yet despite being easily able to suggest they fool around, he couldn't bring himself to reciprocate anything. Putting his mouth on a dick was out of the question, not to mention taking one in the ass. The most Nathan could summon at the moment spare burying himself was jacking Skwisgaar off while he sat in his lap. He could pretend that he wasn't acquainted with the difference between cut and uncut, or with someone else's cum dripping over and through his fingers.   
  
He felt bad for it though, because he wished he  _could_ do more. Skwisgaar would return to Sweden in only a matter of months, and then Nathan would have to start right from scratch in finding someone to mess around with. Skwisgaar spoiled him, with an easy-going nature and excessive comfort with his own sexuality. Nathan never had to guess what he wanted, because Skwisgaar was more than willing to tell him. He'd made sex out to be so far away from taboo that Nathan had to stop himself sometimes from discussing it like weather at the dining table. Here in America—well, under Oscar and Rose Explosion's roof—sex was very much something never spoken about. Nathan was never given any form of talk about it, neither at home  _or_  at school, so Skwisgaar was a blessing in his own right, by that.   
  
Effort to at least keep Rose in the dark about missing an afternoon of school led Nathan to delete the informing message off the answering machine when it came within the next hour. Ignorance couldn't last long, having a stay-at-home mother, so Nathan braced himself the next day when she met him and Skwisgaar at the door.   
  
“Hello,” Rose greeted Skwisgaar sweetly enough. Her smile slid away as she turned her attention to Nathan. “You. In the kitchen,  _now_.”  
  
Nathan was immediately cornered between his mother and the breakfast table, as Skwisgaar's bedroom door closed on the other side of the house. “I—”  
  
“I hope you know you're rewriting that test,” Rose cut him off. “And skipping two days of school? If you aren't in all of your classes tomorrow, I swear to God Nathan, I will come and sit right beside you all day every day until graduation.”  
  
Nathan groaned. “Are you—?”  
  
“Don't underestimate me, young man. I have nothing better to do than make sure you get through school. Do you have any idea what your father would say, if he knew you were passing up on your education? Don't you think he has bigger things to worry about, in Somalia?”  
  
“What's the point, even?” Nathan balled his hands into fists. “Seriously, I'd love to know. What am I going to do with this stupid degree? I don't have anything to do, with or without it.”  
  
“You would, if you'd try a little harder not to damn yourself—”  
  
“Shut up. Just shut up. God.”  
  
Being sentenced to his room served Nathan  _just_  fine. Even though he was allowed out for dinner, he attempted to out-stubborn his mother. The chips he'd stashed under his bed only helped his growling stomach so much. Although they filled him up, lack of nutrients left him feeling weirdly empty when the last crumbs had been unceremoniously dumped into his mouth. And then came the crushing self-consciousness he'd never had to deal with before, because year-round exercise dedicated to the football field left him in need of eating more than he sometimes wanted to. Without that now, he'd gone soft. Worse than that—he grew pudgy. He hardly recognized the layer of fat that obscured previously defined abdominal muscles.   
  
At least Skwisgaar didn't seem to care. Around midnight, at the height of Nathan's self-pity party, quietly pattering footsteps preceded his door creaking open. In the minimal light provided by Nathan's closed blinds, Skwisgaar's silhouette appeared.   
  
“Tooks your mom forevers to fall asleeps,” he commented while further depressing the mattress with his weight. “Feels up to anyt'ing?”  
  
“I'onno. Maybe.”  
  
Not so much, it turned out. Skwisgaar did everything he could to draw out some measure of excitement, but Nathan's dick wasn't giving it. Skwisgaar eventually sat up, mildly rubbing his jaw. “You ams fucked up in your head right now, or whats?”  
  
“Guess so.” At least Skwisgaar didn't take it personally. “Sorry.”  
  
“You wants me to leaves you alone?”  
  
“Doesn't matter. Hang out, if you like.”  
  
Skwisgaar crawled to the end of the bed in order to put some music on, in that case. While blindly groping again for his blanket, Nathan couldn't help but stare at Skwisgaar's ass. That was the very start of his fascination, spare the flush of butterflies he'd gotten when first laying eyes on Skwisgaar at Tampa International. Well, butterflies weren't very metal, so Nathan liked to think of it as if they all scrambled about his guts, panicking and on fire. That's how  _he_ felt, at the time.   
  
Feeding off residual confidence from the Homecoming party that slipped the friction between them, Nathan sat up in order to better grope. It wasn't much brighter in here than the closet they'd aggressively and drunkenly made-out in, at Tyler's house. Fear was still present, but for a completely different reason. Back then, getting caught would've equated to social suicide. After five months since that first encounter-turned-eventual-hook-up later in the night, Nathan struggled to imagine what he'd do without Skwisgaar here. After graduation, their correspondence would be limited to phone calls. Sure, they'd be able to talk about music, but what about  _this?_  Nathan looked up once where exactly Skwisgaar lived in Sweden, and it was depressingly far away. If Nathan ever wanted to visit, he needed serious cash to put toward a plane ticket. For money, he needed a job, for a job, he needed to go to school. . .  
  
“Whoa, holds on,” Skwisgaar told Nathan as a boner resultant of desperation pressed into his crack. “I amn'ts ready for dat, rights dis minute.”  
  
“Do you wanna be, though?”  
  
Skwisgaar was a champ for even agreeing to give it a try, after first seeing just what he'd be up against. It wasn't always easy and more often than not Skwisgaar called for them to quit, but enough gentle fingering and attention elsewhere with Nathan's free, slick hand had Skwisgaar bucking backwards toward his knuckles. Stifled groans and sighs needed to be redirected into the blanket when Nathan successfully mounted him. Nathan kept shallow at first, despite his body screaming to give it his all, but Skwisgaar needed time to accommodate such girth.   
  
Eventually, a hand groped back in order to pull Nathan in by his hips. As close as Nathan already was, with his head swimming in prospective endorphins, he went the other direction. A knitted brow on Skwisgaar's part silently asked why he'd stop so near the end, but something larger needed to happen tonight. Nathan needed to quit being a big baby about how he and Skwisgaar engaged one another, because they ran on limited time. If he didn't want to have any regrets when he eventually had to say goodbye, he needed to get his act together. Football left him with unfinished business, but Skwisgaar wouldn't be the same way, damn it.   
  
“What ams you doing?” Skwisgaar whispered as Nathan flipped him over onto his back. Nathan didn't have the chance to answer, since his mouth already opened to admit the wet and sticky tip of rock-hard flesh. He really had no idea what he was doing, despite watching Skwisgaar at it dozens of times, so until surprise-derived tension in Skwisgaar's muscles relented with his stiff diaphragm, Nathan winged it. Long fingers slipped into Nathan's hair, subconsciously guiding him with varying tugs and twists. Nathan didn't pull away until the last possible second, when the tapping on his shoulder grew as frantic as Skwisgaar's wriggly hips. He rarely faced Skwisgaar when orgasm hit, so it was a wonder to see; his head lolling back exposed his Adam's apple, full lips parted, and the first ripple of pleasure mirrored in the wrinkling of his brow.   
  
Skwisgaar seemed pleased beyond lingering glossiness in his gaze, face flushed and breath escaping him in short pants as he came down. Rather than address Nathan's accomplishment, he indicated the remaining boner between them. “So den whats about  _you?_ ”  
  
Nathan wasn't ready to reacquaint himself with the constellations of moles on Skwisgaar's back. Instead, Skwisgaar's hips were raised off the bed and long legs needed to find a place to settle as Nathan eased into him again. How the hell had Nathan ever  _missed_  the lax expression that accompanied the coupling of their bodies? Equally addictive was Skwisgaar's hair splayed around his head as his torso worked with the cautious rhythm Nathan set. Yet again, Skwisgaar squeezed whatever he could easiest reach—Nathan's protesting knee, this time—to encourage upping intensity or speed, whatever would get Nathan off the quickest.   
  
Nathan leaned back against the wall when it was all over, having buried the condom deep in his trash can. It had taken every iota of inner strength he possessed not to fall forward on Skwisgaar afterward, so Nathan was glad that he stuck around afterward. Normally Nathan didn't give two shits if Skwisgaar rashly dressed to retreat to his own room, but hollowness and fear had swollen to an unbearable level since his knee fucked up. He didn't want to be alone like this.   
  
Back in his underwear, Skwisgaar sat beside him. His skin took on a slightly blue tinge in the street lamp's light, and Nathan couldn't resist scratching what nails he had against a pale thigh.   
  
“You am still sulkings.”  
  
Nathan grumbled; he hated talking about his dumb feelings, and it didn't help that the only person who hated that sort of discussion more, was Skwisgaar. It was hard to believe he didn't just ask out of obligation. “Things are fucked up, right now.”  
  
“Ja. But dey will work out.”  
  
“Think so?”  
  
Skwisgaar nodded. “Why nots? We always finds a way to make t'ing happen for ourself. Maybes football wasn't what you am supposed to does. Forgets college, forgets what your parents am makings you do. You cans do anyt'ing you want.”  
  
“I don't believe you.”  
  
“And why nots?”  
  
“Because you don't believe in anything, so why would you believe in  _me?_ ”  
  
“You mights give up on football or math, but you ams way too stubborn to gives up on what truly make you happy.”  
  
Nathan averted his gaze. “Nice to know there's at least  _one_  person that doesn't think I'm a loser for life.”  
  
“Nej, we haves plenty of time to conquer somet'ing.”  
  
“Guess we'll see about that, when it happens.” Nathan paused. “Still wanna go to Tampa, on the weekend?”  
  
“Shore. Gets out of here for a while. Sees a couple shows, gets drunk.” Skwisgaar climbed off the bed. Stretching toward the ceiling, he hummed in satisfaction. “Goods fuck. Mights be sore tomorrow, but wills be wort' it.”  
  
“Same.” Nathan's knee only acted up minimally throughout, but he'd pay for it. Still, if it could handle that kind of stress, maybe he had a chance to get back into football. Did he really care to, though? “Get outta here.”


End file.
